


Under the Stars

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: Could you do a fic of Jaskier and Reader by the fire, making soups and tea and cuddling and dancing under the stars?
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 7





	Under the Stars

The crackling of the fire mingled with the soft timbre of Jaskier’s voice, a duet that soothed and centered you. You were lost, there was no denying that at this point. Usually this would have caused you to panic but Jaskier had a way of turning moments of anxiety into adventures. He never belittled your concerns when you voiced them, he just helped you focus on what could be controlled. You were lost in the woods, that was beyond your control as night overtook and any light you could have used was extinguished in a wash of magenta and azure hues. You were cold, that was something you could control, the fire you’d managed together proof of your resilience. Jaskier had proved more adept at creating fires than you’d anticipated, a fact that made the both of you rightly nervous. You were hungry, and this too you could solve together. You walked together, not so far that you lost the light of the fire, but far enough to try and find any vegetation that could be turned into some palatable. You’d luckily brought a cauldron with you for just this purpose though you’d expected to be using it in a grassy knoll as opposed to a clearing in the woods.

“There’s a river! That’ll be the base for our broth and we’re likely to find something good to season it as well,” Jaskier said, pointing to the little river that had nearly escaped your notice.

“How will we know what’s ok to eat?” you asked.

“I picked up some things in my travels with Geralt,” Jaskier said, “This, for example, is a morel mushroom. A tasty little delicacy that can be used to create a delicious vegetable base for our dinner.”

You gathered the mushrooms, using your skirt to carry them.

“Aha! Bay laurel! Oh yes this is truly shaping up to be something special,” Jaskier declared, giving you an excited smile. He continued to point out little pieces of vegetation here and there, showing you the signs to look for to know if a plant is edible or poisonous, regaling you with stories of culinary experiments he’d made in his travels thus far. Whether good or bad, the story that came from the experiences were entertaining and he loved the sound of your laughter and the way your eyes lit up listening to him speak. When you returned to the fire you had a cauldron of water and an skirt gathered up and full of vegetables and herbs. Jaskier took charge cooking and he reminded you of a forest witch, sprinkling ingredients here and there, face illuminated by the fire casting shadows and sharpening the angles of his cheekbones.

The soup was shockingly good and you were glad because he watched you eagerly as you took the first sip, watching for your reaction. You’d never been able to lie to Jaskier but you didn’t have to even try.

“How did you do this?” you asked incredulously, already readying another bite.

“I have my ways,” he answered cheekily, sitting next to you with his own bowl. The soup warmed you and helped you feel cozy and safe. The man by your side helped with that as well as he continued to tell you stories. When you were done with the soup he insisted on taking the bowls and cauldron to the river to rinse them clean while you stayed by the cozy fire. He even wrapped his doublet around your shoulders for extra warmth though between the fire and the soup you were more than toasty. You dozed off a little, the soft grass as comfortable as any bedroll could be. You were woken with a kiss on the cheek and turned towards it, trying to pull Jaskier into a hug but he pulled back.

“No, no, you’ve got to get up,” he said. You furrowed your brows grumpily but opened your eyes and saw he was holding the tin mugs you’d packed, something steaming coming from them. You sat up and he handed up a mug. You could smell something suspiciously like tea.

“How did you…?” your voice trailed off in amazement, beginning to wonder if he truly was magical.

“I told you, I’m very good at foraging,” he replied with a wink. He wrapped an arm around you as he took his place next to you again and you rested like that for some time, sipping your teas quietly and watching the fire.

“This is pretty perfect,” you mused. He kissed your head and rubbed your arm, readjusting the doublet which had begun to slip.

“Well you deserve perfection,” he said.

“So do you,” you said, shifting to look him in the eyes.

“I know, that’s why I pursue it in all aspects of my life,” he replied, looking at you meaningfully. You laughed and shook your head.

“But you know there is something that could make this moment just… the tiniest but more perfect,” he said.

“What?”

He pulled the empty mug from your hand and placed both of them out of the way before standing and extending an arm.

“Dance with me,” he said.

“Very well but only because you made such a delicious meal,” you said as you slipped your hand into his and let him help you up. Once standing you shrugged off the doublet and took his hand, resting the other on his shoulder before he moves it up around his neck and wraps both arms around your waist, pulling you closer than a dance would usually require. He walks you through a lazy waltz, making slow circles around the fire as he sings a song quietly in your ear.

“I don’t know that one,” you say after listening to the words and trying to place it.

“This is a new one I’m working on. It’s about an intrepid adventurer and her adoring admirer and their dangerous trek into the woods,” he answers.

“Oh indeed? Tell me more about this dangerous trek,” you say playfully.

“Well first there was the dryad that pursued them through the woods, angered by the beauty of the adventurer which dared rival its own,” he explains, giving you a little twirl before pulling you back in again, your dirt-smudged skirts twirling and wrapping around your legs before falling back into place.

“I seem to remember a part where the admirer saves the adventurer from an evil curse,” you say.

“I don’t recall that.”

“Oh yes, you know, how the adventurer was going to fall prey to the curse of Overthought and Uncertainty when the admirer cleverly distracted her and cunningly outsmarted the curse by being attentive and caring,” you continue, enjoying the way he blushes and flusters under your words. It’s fun to turn the tables sometimes but he always finds a way through it, always winning this game. He cheats this time by pulling you in for a kiss, the moonlight playing about his eyes which seem to glow.

“Thank you for the dance,” he whispers, softly caressing your face.

“Mmm,” you hum softly in acknowledgement and then you get an idea.

“Come here,” you say, pulling out the bedroll and laying it by the fire. He follows suit, placing his next to yours. You lay on your back and pat the bedroll, gesturing for him to do the same. He does and then follows your eyes, looking up into the heavens together. The silent, shimmering symphony of the stars a canopy for the little home you make together in the woods.

“Pick a star,” you say. Jaskier looks at you, a confused expression on his face but he looks back at the sky and considers.

“That one,” he says, pointing at a particularly bright star.

“Ah, good choice,” you say, “Do you know what that star is?”

“Um… pretty?”

“Well you’re not wrong. But that particular star is the north star. It’s an important star because if you can find it, you can’t be too lost,” you explain.

“That’s quite poetic actually,” he says, cuddling up closer to you, resting his head on your chest but angled so he can still look at the sky with you.

“You think everything’s poetic,” you tease, running a hand through his hair.

“Do you think a north star can be a person?” he asks, not rising to the bait. He looks up at you as he asks and you can see the stars reflected in his eyes and are struck yet again by how much you love this man and how, incredibly, confusingly, blessedly, he loves you too.

“I know it can,” you answer.


End file.
